


What Carolina Saw

by nonbinarycoded



Series: 3 and a Half Minutes in Heaven [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: ...sorry it took me a year to write this sequel oops, Angst, But also, F/M, Fluff, au where the portal shows someone their personal heaven instead of hell, it's sweet until everything goes to shit, this takes place like minutes after the last story in this series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 11:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7434467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinarycoded/pseuds/nonbinarycoded
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Washington wasn't the warrior the portal was looking for doesn't mean Carolina can't be. She has to try, at the very least.</p><p>AU in which, instead of showing the soldier a test of will, the temple portal shows them everything they've ever wanted. Whoever comes out of that willingly is a true warrior.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Carolina Saw

**Author's Note:**

> A continuation on mahoushoujogrimchan's au (http://mahoushoujogrimchan.tumblr.com/post/127354477822/thought) that I began in the story before this, What Washington Saw. You don't have to read that one to understand what's happening in this one, but this takes place directly after that story ends, so they are meant to flow into each other.

The portal loomed over Carolina, a silent reminder of their mission.  
  
Washington crying several feet away was a less-than-silent reminder of their mission. It had been nearly 10 minutes since he’d exited the portal, and they still hadn’t gotten him to talk about what had happened while he was inside. He hadn’t said much of anything at all, so all Carolina had to go off of was what he’d said immediately upon exiting—demands to go back and pleas that something not be taken from him again made for a less than inviting promise of things to come. Most of the group was still gathered around Washington, leaving nobody to stop her from steeling herself with a quiet breath and stepping forward.  
  
She’d been braced for a fight, so the sensation of falling was, while unexpected, not entirely too far off. Her head turned wildly but she remained surrounded by complete blackness, nothing going by to prove that she even _was_ falling. There was something incredibly _off_ about the entire situation that was making her stomach lurch more than the fall was; she’d been prepared for a fight, for a test, for _anything_. She hadn’t been prepared for nothing.  
  
She’d finished that thought just as a metallic _thud_ rang out around her, seeming to come from everywhere at once. It was followed quickly by another, then more as the noises took on the rhythm of footsteps, slow and purposeful. This didn’t calm Carolina, not exactly, but it gave her something to focus on other than the great, yawning nothing that was setting her more on edge with every passing second. She tensed, bringing her arms in front of her and trying to pick out exactly where the sound was coming from and what its source might be. Just as the thudding became almost deafening and seemed to close in right on top of her, her entire body jolted and a burning light seared her eyes.  
  
Waking up to the bright fluorescents of the _Mother of Invention_ had always been a bitch to deal with.  
  
Carolina flinched, drawing one arm up to shield her eyes as the thudding of armored boots outside her door drew close and passed by, accompanied by the sound of Washington complaining about… something or other.  
  
“Maine, this isn’t- This is against regulation! You can’t just _pick people up and_ \- Put me down! You can’t just walk away with me whenever you get bored!”  
  
Carolina let out a quiet laugh, mirrored behind her as York propped his head up on his arm. The second she saw him, Carolina felt like she’d been punched in the chest. Breathing was impossible, and she floundered for a moment as she tried to figure out _why._ There was nothing particularly special about the moment; York had slept in her cot with her last night, like he did most nights now. Something pressed at the back of Carolina’s mind, insisting that she should be grateful to see him again, because the last time she’d seen him-  
  
Her dreams were always terrible the night after missions. Passing that nagging feeling off as a dream didn’t feel right, she remembered something about falling, nothing about York, but any lingering traces of the dream vanished from her mind entirely as York pressed a soft kiss to Carolina’s cheek.  
  
“I guess that’s our alarm. Time to wake up then, huh?” The sleepy grin he wore was clear even in his voice, and Carolina matched it.  
  
“I guess so. Should I get him back for waking us up like this?”  
  
“Aw, we just ran a mission yesterday, everyone’s tired. Give the kid a break, ‘Lina.” And there it was again, that awful, clawing feeling at her heart upon hearing his nickname for her. She’d heard his nickname yesterday, and the day before that, and just about every day before that. It was special, sure, but it wasn’t anything that should be making her feel… longing? She couldn’t put a name to the emotion tugging at her chest, but she didn’t like it, so ignored it went. You didn’t need to name things you weren’t going to acknowledge.  
  
“Fine, then you get up first,” Carolina said, and pressed deeper into her pillow as York sat up and pushed the blanket from his legs. He ran a hand through wild bed head, then stretched his arms out, purposefully bumping an arm into Carolina’s face. She snorted and poked a finger into his side in retaliation, causing him to jerk backwards with a startled laugh.  
  
“Oh, come on, what was that for? That was an accident!”  
  
“ _Sure_ it was,” Carolina said disbelievingly, sitting up and resting her head on York’s shoulder.  
  
“You know, I am going to need my shirt back eventually.” York tugged gently at the collar of his faded Grifball shirt to emphasize his point, while Carolina hummed noncommittally.  
  
“No, I don’t think so.”  
  
“You don’t think so? It’s my shirt! I mean, I know I look _great_ without one, but-”  
  
Carolina cut him off with a snort, tapping a hand against his side. “Fine, you can take the shirt back. It’s not like it’ll ever leave this room anyways.”  
  
“You know what? Actually, you can keep the shirt on, it looks good on you. I’ll even let you put on my sweats so you’re dressed enough to maybe go get us both some coffee?” The end of the question trailed off, York’s voice growing higher and more pleading with each word.  
  
“Or I’ll go get myself coffee and leave you here, caffeine deprived and in nothing but your boxers. You make a picture perfect soldier, Agent New York,” she teased, swinging her legs off the bed and standing. She did some stretching of her own while York laughed.  
  
“You wouldn’t do that to me.”  
  
“Wouldn’t I?” Carolina challenged, picking up her own sweatpants off the ground. York opened his mouth to answer, then frowned and paused.  
  
“Would you? You wouldn’t really, right?”  
  
“I don’t know, York. I might.” She smirked and turned to find a hair elastic.  
  
“Aw, come on, Carolina,” York drawled, and Carolina felt the ground lurch beneath her feet.  
  
This was wrong, this was _wrong,_ she hadn’t heard that in years- York said it often, but Carolina hadn’t heard it in years, why hadn’t she-  
  
“It’s time to go, Carolina. The test is over now."  
  
Not York’s voice. A crude approximation of York’s voice, like someone had fed it through a hundred radios; too mechanical, too cold, it was _not York’s voice._  
  
" _No- Don’t-_ ” Protests tore themselves from Carolina’s throat as she turned around, catching one last glimpse of York’s ruined left side as her vision went dark and the ground fell from beneath her. “Don’t- Don’t _do_ this to me- _Please_ , you can’t do this to me, _PLEASE_ -”  
  
The Blood Gulch Soldiers had never once in their lives heard Carolina beg. Washington would be hard pressed to recall a time he’d heard such a thing either, because the simple fact of the matter was this: Carolina did not beg.  
  
_“Don’t take this from me, I have to go back, you have to let me say goodbye-_ ”  
  
When the portal spat Carolina out precisely three and a half minutes after anyone had realized she had left, she stayed exactly where she was. She stayed kneeling on the ground, hands clutching and tearing at her chest as if removing her heart would remove the vicious ache burning inside her. It had dulled with time, but never truly gone away, and what the portal had shown her had made that ache so much stronger again, like taking a knife to old, nearly healed stitches on a wound.  
  
Even more simple than the universal rule that Carolina did not beg was this: Carolina did not cry.  
  
Carolina was not crying now.

Her eyes stung, her face grew red, and still she did not cry. When one of her friends placed a hand on her back, she did not cry, only swatted them away before returning her hand to her chest, because maybe if she just squeezed _hard_ enough it’d stop the tearing, bursting feeling that felt like it was going to kill her.  
  
Carolina did not cry until late that night—far later than anyone with responsibilities like hers should have been awake. She cried until her body couldn’t muster up the tears to cry anymore, until her pillow had heard the phrase, “I’m so sorry, York,” repeated more times than York himself had. She cried, and when there was nothing left to escape tired tear ducts, she scrubbed her face, thankful that this had happened at such a late hour. Nobody was around so late at night, and if nobody had seen her cry, then she hadn’t cried. Because the simple fact of the matter was this: Carolina did not cry.


End file.
